


A Moment's Peace

by Lasgalendil



Series: Starlight and Song [15]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abuse of Khuzdul, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf Gender Concepts, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Language Barrier, Languages and Linguistics, M/M, Sindarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:19:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4657581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elf loves Dwarf.<br/>Dwarf loves Elf.</p><p>...they drive each other crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment's Peace

“Chamúc,”

Hopeless. It’s bloody hopeless. The Mountain is less than a week’s ride away, and he’s bungled it from Fanghorn to the Carrock. “Shamukh, Elf. It’s shamukh.”

“That’s what I said,” my Elf insists. “Chamúc.”

“Close enough,” I sigh. His bloody Sindarin doesn’t have the sounds. Amad and Adad will just have to live with it.

[Still not sure if they’ll thank me or tan me for teaching him our tongue.]  
[He’s going to live in the Mountain. Can’t be helped. He’d pick up on bits sooner or later.]  
[And he is their…son-in-law.]  
[We have to do this proper.]

“And then?” I prompt him.

“Thai adchânthi ra barafthi.”

“Zai adshânzi,” I correct.

“That’s what I said!” he flushes.

“‘couse it was,” I say, laying our bedroll down as he rubs Horse down for the night. “And what do you say to 'Adad—er, Glóin?”

“Chamúc?”

“Go on…”

“Thai adchânthu ra barafthu?“

I shrug. “Close enough.”

“It’s not right, is it?” he asks me glumly.

“It’ll do, Elf,” I remove the boots from my tired feet. “It’ll do. Now come here.”

He prances over, far too eager to obey, lay next to me. Have to work on that. Never hear the end of it back home, call him a puppy, a wife, a slave, think I bind him, chain him…

But it is good. I enjoy him. Holding him close like this. Too tired, too sore, arse too stiff from a day’s riding to fuck him. Will miss this, just he an I, out under the stars. Nothing quite like a pipe in the mouth and an Elf in the arms. “Why?” he asks me. Oh, bloody fucking fuck. So much for a peaceful evening…

Let’s play his favorite game. His only game. Guess what the Mahal-damned Elf’s vague question means this time. “Why what, Elf?”

“Why…thai adchânthu and adchânthi?”

Well, now. That’s not complicated at all. Thank bloody Mahal. Don’t want another argument. Just want a smoke and a sleep.

[And perhaps a fuck.]  
[Later.]

“You say -zi to ‘Amad, and -zu to ‘Adad, Elf.”

“But…why?” he continues to comb me.

Here we go again. “Why _what_ , Elf?”

“Why is it different for Adads and Amads?”

“‘Addad and ‘Ammad, Elf,” I emphasize. “Because.”

“Because why?”

“That’s how it’s done, Elf.”

“But—“

“Because it just is!”

“But _why?_ ”

“Because bloody hell ‘Addad and ‘Ammad are just different, damn it, Elf!”

“How?” he insists. “How are they different?”

“If you don’t know yet, I’m not telling you,” and I rip my beard from him and roll over as if to sleep. “Shamukh!”

“I thought chamúc was hello?” my Elf wonders.

“Shamukh, Elf! Mahal-damnit is that so hard!”

“Chamúc,” he enunciates. “That’s what I said! I thought it was hello? That it was… _mae govannen_?”

Fucking Mahal. Can we not argue? For once? It’s the Firebeard in me, make no mistake. Love the bloody, sodding creature, but he makes my blood boil and beard curl. “Bloody hell, Elf, it’s hello and goodbye.”

“It’s _mae govannen_ AND _no vaer?_ ” the pitch of his voice rises. “That makes no sense at all!”

“It just IS, Elf,” I grumble, closing my eyes. “Just go to sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” he objects.

“I don’t care.”

He scurries under our blanket and cuddles against me, face seeking my shoulder so he can bury it in my beard, cold hands reaching up to my ears. “My Gimli, I’m not sleepy.”

“Then revel, you Mahal-damned creature, and let those of us who are, do.”

“I said—“

“Bloody hell, you stupid, sodding Elf!” I snatch my beard away from him. “I heard you the first time!”

“Fine!” my Elf stalks coldly away. “I will just comb myself then! I wish you good sleep, Master Dwarf!”

…Mahal-damnit. “Bring your pretty head back here and I’ll comb it, you stupid, fucking Elf.” He glowers, and Horse snorts at me, but in the end hie relents, saunters back over and plops gracelessly next to me. Arms crossed. Looking away. No song. Doesn’t hand me his hair.

Elf angry. Elf sad.

…Elf pissy.

Nothing for it. Have to use both hands. Probably sing. Break my fucking back combing him out or there will be no peace, and Mahal help me if I neglect his ears! I pull the pins out, let tresses fall, take the beads from the end of every plait. Ordinarily I’d take my time, let him enjoy being unbound, but those shoulders are still stiff and his eyes are petulant. Oh, my Elf, you have the most beautiful, laughable pout!

[And fuckable arse.]  
[It is, I find, Mahal-damned maddeningly impossible to stay angry with him long.]

“Peace,” I sigh.

“I said nothing!” my Elf huffs.

“No—peace. Shamukh means peace,” I try to explain. “That’s why it’s both a greeting and goodbye.”

He nestles back. Every so slightly. Hear him sing.

[He will deny this.]  
[He sings constantly.]  
[Mahal as my witness, CONSTANTLY.]

“You could’ve said so.”

 _You could’ve bloody asked,_ I almost say, but I bite my beard, content to comb.

* * *

  **Shamukh:** Used as a greeting and goodbye, may roughly translate “Peace”

[My theory is it’s related to S-L-M radical, the basis for Shalom/Salaam in Hebrew and Arabic, respectively. I’ve messaged Kendral, the Dwarrowscholar and the creator of the most comprehensive Neo-Khuzdul dictionary and grammar. We’ll see if my hunch is correct!]

> **UPDATE: HE MESSAGED ME BACK!! (FANGIRLS HERSELF TO DEATH)**
> 
> Okay so Shamukh is the jussive first person plural for 'to guard', which translates loosely 'let us all guard one another'. So my theory is half correct-while Roy (Kendral on LOTRO) based it off the S-L-M radical, the meaning is different. But I like this story, so I'm going to leave it up despite its inaccuracy :)

**Zai adshânzi:** at your service (sing fem)  
**Zai adshânzu:**  at your service (sing masc)  
**ra barafzi:** and your family (sing fem)  
**ra barafzu:** and your family (sing masc)

Sindarin doesn’t have the sounds ‘z’ or ‘sh’, and lacks aspiration of stops [and the glottal stop, denoted by ‘ entirely]. Khazad, the Dwarfish word for Dwarf, transliterates to hathod/chathod in Sindarin. If we accept ‘th’ for ‘z’, and ‘h/ch’ for ‘sh’, and Sindarin ‘c’ for aspirated Khuzdul ‘kh’, we get chamúc. Legolas would have the most hic accent speaking regular Sindarin, so imagining him botching Westron and subsequently Khuzdul is my favorite. He’s the Miracle Max of Tolkien!

Sindarin has gender suffixes for nouns and names, but no gender-specific pronouns or verb forms. Neo-Khuzdul has both!

[Head canon is, of course, that any non-binary Dwarves can alter these pronouns as they see fit. Some Clans may simply use either gender pronouns as default for all Dwarves of any/no genders. I’m particularly fond of the idea of all Dwarves identifying in Westron as “male”, since this is seemingly easier for their non-dwarvish counterparts to understand given their heavy armor and hirsute features, would lead to the cultural confusion as to why there are “no dwarf women”, and they only identify in Khuzdul and among other Dwarves as their true gender.]

[Of note, Legolas would understand the difference between single and doubled consonants. ‘m’ vs. ‘mm’ and ‘d’ vs. ‘dd’ would have the same phonemic properties in Sindarin, even if it doesn’t denote plural in his language.]

**All Neo-Khuzdul courtesy of The Dwarrow Scholar: https://dwarrowscholar.wordpress.com**


End file.
